


Act

by Crockzilla



Series: Domesti-Kink with Spideypool [48]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Consensual Non-Consent, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fear Play, Fluff, Gun Kink, Knife Play, Knifeplay, Love, M/M, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Sub Drop, Switching, Top Drop, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 19:05:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15802704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crockzilla/pseuds/Crockzilla
Summary: Peter is a good actor. Too good, perhaps.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImSoVain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImSoVain/gifts).



> BLESS MY BETA, QQI25 from whom all blessings flow!!!
> 
> This fic has two consensual non-consent scenes. As in rape fantasy. As in pretend-rape. 
> 
> There is also shmoopy lovey goodness, cuz it's my boys, but please don't read this if it's not a good idea for you.

“No!”

Peter pressed his face against the window and kind of slid down, making the glass squeak. It was hilarious, but Wade knew better than to laugh. The weather was lovely, rainy and chilly, which to Peter signaled the end of summer and the beginning of his having to wear forty layers of clothing.

“It’s just a cold front, Baby Cakes,” Wade comforted from his place on the couch with his laptop. The colder weather had filled him with pumpkin-spice-flavored glee, and he had already planned all of their Halloween crafts and was now pinning cute DIY Xmas gifts. “You’ve still got like two months to be warm.”

Peter groaned and dragged himself to the bedroom. He came back wearing socks and a hoodie over his t-shirt, still groaning.

“At least they’ll turn off the air conditioning at school soon, right?” Wade tried again as his poor freezing love sat down heavily on the couch.

Peter humphed, holding his mug of hot tea in both hands and leaning against Wade’s side. “And we can start making cold-weather food.”

“Mm,” Wade hummed, snaking a hand under Peter’s hoodie, “lasagna—“

“Gnocchi,” Peter said, finally smiling a little.

“And you know, when you start layering,” Wade purred, nuzzling his nose against Peter’s ear, “it makes me all hot and bothered.”

Peter’s small smile turned into a proper smile. Win. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mm-hm,” Wade said, nibbling his earlobe. “It takes me so long to unwrap you, makes me want to cut you out of all those clothes, layer by layer—“

Wade stopped nibbling when he realized that Peter was making The Face. It was The Face that meant Peter wanted something very specific and almost always absolutely kinky.

“Yes?” Wade grinned, digging his fingers into his tiny Spidey’s ribs.

“Ah!” Peter squealed, moving away from the tickles. “It’s just – would you ever want to—“

Wade waited, watching as Peter bit his lip. “Honey Bunch, you know I’m gonna say ‘yes, please,’” he encouraged.

His Spidey gave him an unsure look. “This is kind of a big one.”

Jumping Jelly Beans – Wade had low-key pressured Peter into peeing on him, Peter had made Wade run around the city for an entire day with ginger in his ass, and they’d recently spent a blissful evening poking holes through each other for erotic purposes. What could his cute cutie be worried about?

“Would you ever want to pretend,” Peter said, carefully, “that I – didn’t want it?”

Oh.

Ooh.

…Ooooooh.

Wade’s brain went into Slow Mo. He was only jolted out of his arousal-induced daze by the apprehension on his sweetheart’s face.

“Yes,” Wade said, nodding emphatically. “Yes, I would like to pretend that. A lot.”

Peter’s great big brown eyes lit up, which was one of Wade’s favorite things to make them do. “Really?” he asked, kneeling up on the couch and bouncing a bit. “Because I thought maybe you could—“

Turned out Spidey had a lot of very specific ideas about what he wanted from this scene. Which meant he’d been thinking about it. Fantasizing about it. Repeatedly. Wade had to forcibly press Wade Junior down to keep him from emerging from his house pants.

“And maybe, um, I mean not if it’s too much,” Peter said, talking a mile a minute, “but if it was okay could you maybe use a – a gun?”

“Sure,” Wade said, and Peter’s eyes grew impossibly wider and more sparkly. “We’ll have to order one of the safety ones that don’t have moving parts—“

Peter cocked his head to the side. “Can’t we just unload one of yours?”

Oh dear.

They had to take a break from scene-planning for Wade to wash his Spidey’s mouth out with soap and make him repeat “There’s no such thing as an unloaded gun” while he got a twenty-minute belt spanking (it would have only been ten minutes, but Peter kept alternately rolling his eyes and making sexy noises.) Once he’d produced a satisfactory amount of tears, Wade let Peter sit on his lap while he ordered a safety revolver from their favorite online kinky vendor.

“Well, what about a knife?” Peter asked. “I understand about the gun, but I don’t want to wait a week before we get to do this.”

Peter’s eyes were still sort of red, and he sniffled and pouted ever so slightly. “I suppose,” Wade relented, and Peter seemed to have a miraculous recovery, kissing him all over his face.

They planned for the rest of the day and even throughout their patrol, earning some funny looks from the criminals they apprehended. Wade would have figured that no crook in the greater NYC metro area would be surprised by anything that came out of either of their mouths at this point – maybe these were noobs. At any rate, by the time they got back to their place for post-patrol smexy times, they agreed that they had a well-planned consensual-non-consent scene on their hands.

The next day, Wade stumbled out of the bedroom to find Peter sitting in the kitchen, already wearing eight layers of clothing and looking like a kid waiting to open their birthday present. Wade quickly dressed and packed his Lisa Frank duffle with his Naughty Pretend Burglar gear.

“Maybe don’t knock, just burst in?” Peter said between kisses as he saw Wade out the door. “Or no, surprise me!”

“Stay,” Wade giggled. Peter giggled back, waving and shutting the door after him.

Wade’s job was to be away long enough that his reappearance would catch Peter off-guard. He had planned to wander around their favorite fancy grocery store for longer, possibly even pick up a new cheese or two for them to try later, but the longer he was by himself the more nervous he seemed to be getting. He was very, very excited about what he was going to go home and do to his precious tiny love, but – as Peter had said, this was kind of a big one.

And anyway, the longer he stayed gone, the more texts Peter sent him with additional instructions and ideas. He laughed, shaking his head as he read the exclamation-point-ridden messages – it would be a wonder if the two of them got through this without giggling and turning into a mess of shmoop. Wade didn’t mind – even if it wasn’t too terribly intense, it would be super fun and hot. Everything always was with his Spidey.

Peter was putting a load of their laundry in the dryer when Wade snuck back into their home. There was no way his spidey-hearing hadn’t picked up the sound of someone coming through the window, but Peter didn’t react. Wade watched his victim’s movements as he crept towards him – his back, his hair, his neck, the little glimpses he caught of his face as he worked. He was wearing one of Wade’s hoodies over his clothes and looked very small. Helpless.

Peter’s whole body seized when Wade’s arms went around him. Wade felt his victim’s mouth open under his hand, trying to scream but only getting out a muffled sound. No one would hear him. He tried to struggle, and Wade was glad because that made it more fun. He let Peter feel the blade of the knife against his throat, and he immediately stilled.

“Don’t scream,” Wade instructed in his ear, “and don’t fight unless I tell you to.”

His little victim’s eyes were huge with fear, trying to get a look at Wade’s face without moving his head. He nodded, careful of the blade.

“Good boy,” Wade praised, releasing his mouth and petting his head. “What pretty hair you’ve got.”

His victim took a shuddering breath. It was torture for him to not scream or fight, Wade could tell, but he was also smart. He knew when he was at someone’s mercy.

“Show me your bedroom,” Wade instructed, lightly.

Peter seemed to freeze, then made himself move, slowly moving towards the bedroom with the knife at his throat, Wade pressed against his back. He was so small, so slight, and Wade had to resist the urge to just throw him to the ground or over the nearest piece of furniture, but no – that was not the plan.

Wade walked them close to the bed so that Peter’s knees were almost touching it. He stopped him with a press of the blade against his skin, making him gasp.

“You’re going to lay down on your back, right in the middle of the bed where I can get to you,” Wade told him, calmly. “You’re going to be good for me and hold still while I take your clothes off.”

Peter’s body stiffened as he drew in a breath. “Please don’t do this,” he said, and Wade could tell how hard he was working to keep his voice steady.

“Ooh, begging,” Wade purred, chin on his shoulder. “I like that, maybe I’ll let you do that some more in a minute. Get on the bed.”

There was a moment where it seemed like he might resist, so Wade helped him by again pressing the blade into his skin. Peter moved slowly, carefully, stretching himself out just as Wade had told him to do. Wade moved with him, keeping the knife close to his throat.

“Such a good boy for me,” Wade praised. Peter was concentrating on the ceiling, but his mouth curled as if in disgust. He squirmed, but he stopped as soon as Wade moved the knife under the collar of his shirt.

“Hold still, now,” Wade said before starting to cut. He watched Peter’s eyes as he slid the sharp knife swiftly through the material of his hoodie. His little victim gasped and cried out, but it was small – Wade let it go. He took a bit more time with the long-sleeved shirt underneath the hoodie. With the thin t-shirt, the last layer, he made sure to cut agonizingly slowly, enjoying each bit of skin he was finally exposing. He glanced up from his work to see that his little victim was watching him, lips pressed tightly together, eyes wide, tear tracks down both sides of his face.

Wade grinned behind his wool mask. “Don’t cry, Pretty,” he soothed, laying open Peter’s shirt like he was a filleted fish. “You’re gonna be okay. I’ll take care of you.”

He heard a small sob escape his victim as his hand moved under the waistband of his sweatpants. The sharp blade made quick work of the drawstring, and Wade opted to indulge in cutting the material all the way down either leg. Peter was wearing thick wool socks. He could keep those, Wade decided – wouldn’t want him to get too cold.

As he brushed the cut fabric of the sweatpants aside, Wade discovered a wonderful surprise.

“Well, would you look at that,” he murmured, running one finger along the silky material of the panties his victim was wearing. “Are these just for you, Pretty Boy? Or are they for somebody else?”

He looked up to see that Peter was resolutely staring at the ceiling, his jaw set, his face flushed red. His eyes were blazing but tears were steadily leaking out of them, sliding down his face and onto the bed.

“Did your boyfriend give you these?” Wade asked, climbing onto the bed. “Husband?”

His victim’s angry, cold expression flickered with grief.

“Does he like to see you in these?” Wade asked, palming Peter’s cock through the panties. He slid the edge of the knife through the material, making sure the tip brushed the skin where Peter’s leg joined his hip.

Peter cried out as Wade swiftly cut the material, one side and then the other, then roughly jerked it out from under him.

“Open up,” Wade said, holding the ruined panties in his hand. Peter stared at him, fear and hate and tears in his eyes, but he glanced at the knife in Wade’s other hand and opened his mouth. Smart boy.

Once Wade had gagged him with his own panties, he stretched himself out over his victim, holding Peter’s legs with his thighs and pinning his wrists down to the bed. “Now,” he said, “go ahead and fight.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. He jerked and twisted and bucked, desperately trying to throw Wade’s weight off of him, screaming and yelling around his gag until he was hoarse. Wade felt his cock come to full attention as he watched. Gorgeous. He let go of one wrist and put the knife to his victims’ throat.

“That’s enough,” he said, and Peter instantly stilled, panting from exertion. Wade watched him calm enough to realize what had just been done to him, what was about to be done to him. He let himself actually cry for a moment, his pretty face anguished, soft, pitiful sounds muffled by the gag.

It was a combination of the actual!crying and the pretend!struggling that kind of pulled Wade out for the first time since they’d started this scene. Peter was a good actor. Almost too good. The part of Wade that perpetually wanted to encase Peter in butterfly wings and gossamer cried out at seeing him so distraught.

But the trusty part of Wade that got off on seeing Peter cry and pretend to be afraid was having too much fun. And thank goodness – there was a chance Peter would actually die of sadness if Wade tapped out at his point, he knew.

“Ooh, what have you been up to this morning?” Wade asked as he drove two fingers into his victim’s already-slick hole. Peter growled around the gag – Wade would have thought he’d be grateful for the preparation. Holding the knife steady with one hand, Wade got his victim’s legs arranged properly and lined himself up, grasping Peter’s hip as he slid into him.

He’d expected to hear Peter’s outraged scream around the gag, but he only took in a shuddering gasp. He closed his eyes. That would not do. Wade pressed the blade up into Peter’s chin as he started to move.

“Watch me,” he said, sharply. Peter opened his eyes, rage turning back into fear as Wade slid slowly in and out of him. Inspired, Wade reached up with the hand holding the knife and pulled the gag from Peter’s lovely mouth.

“Beg me to stop,” he ordered.

Peter swallowed. Wade turned the knife so that the point pressed into Peter’s chin, drawing blood.

“Please stop,” he hissed. “Please—“

Wade kept moving slowly in and out of the velvety, tight heat. He picked up his pace.

“Please don’t,” Peter begged, voice breaking, “stop it, stop --!”

“Does your husband fuck you this good, sweetheart?”

Whatever Peter was about to say was strangled by an indignant cry. Wade palmed his victim’s cock again, and – holy shit, he was hard. He was actually hard. Wade grinned down at him, and Peter growled – enraged, humiliated.

“It’s okay, Pretty Boy,” Wade purred, thrusting harder and faster, making his victim’s whole body jolt. “I won’t tell.”

Peter groaned, helplessly, his head moving back and away from the knife, but the knife wasn’t even necessary anymore. He was doing it to himself, and that was the greatest gift Wade could have asked for. He wrapped his hand around his victim’s hard cock, pumping him in time to his thrusts. Peter began begging and pleading for him to stop once again, but that soon tapered off into whimpers of pleasure as Wade watched him get closer and closer to breaking –

Once Peter had finished, they immediately became the shmoopy, lovey-dovey mess that Wade had imagined. He was still sort of half in Naughty Burglar mode when Peter told him, loudly, that he loved him “so fucking much,” and that pushed Wade right over the brink.

*~*~*

“You are an alarmingly good actor.”

Peter grinned, impishly. He speared a couple of shrimp off of Wade’s plate. “You’re not bad yourself.”

Wade picked up another shrimp with his own fork and offered it to Peter, who ate it, adorably. “We’re going to talk frequently about how you feel for the next couple of days, okay?” Wade said, half-knowing Peter was going to argue. “That was a lot, and you’re all high on subby endorphins right now, but when those go away—“

“Babe, I feel awesome,” Peter insisted. Wade hated being right sometimes. “I promise, that was fucking great – you were so scary, and it was so hot, and you took such good care of me—“

Peter was in his lap feeding him shrimp straight from his fingers and planting little kisses all over his face. Wade sighed.

“Would you want to, uh – swap roles?”

Wade’s brain went once again into Slow Mo, and he was once again shaken out of it by the sight of his Spidey looking apprehensive. “Yes,” he said, emphatically. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

Peter’s eyes once again glowed like giant, kinky orbs. “I was thinking you could be, like, cleaning the house or something, and I have to teach tomorrow anyway, so I’ll just sneak in when I come home--“

Wade gently took Peter’s hands to reign in his very adorable energy. “Yes, perfect,” he said, “but maybe we should give it a week or so, huh? Just to let all our feelings re-jingle themselves?”

Peter looked a teensy bit frustrated. “I feel awesome, I told you. And shouldn’t we do it now, if we’re gonna? While we’re still sort of in the groove?”

Wade could not resist the way Peter occasionally talked like he was a professor from the 1960s trying to sound hip, nor could he resist the way Peter illustrated being “in the groove” by wiggling in Wade’s lap.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Peter said, freezing mid-wiggle. “I’m sorry, honey – we don’t have to, we can wait, of course we can.”

Peter’s sweet, strong arms in their eight layers of sweater went around Wade’s shoulder, and he felt his Spidey’s soft lips against his head. Wade sighed. He knew this was a bad idea. He knew better than to do this. He could see the future, and if he made a good decision now he could spare them both days of unshakeable moroseness and intermittent weeping.

But he was also unbelievably horny. The double-whammy of what he’d done to Peter that day and what Peter now wanted to do to him – it was too much for his poor, weak constitution.

“I’m game if you are.”

Peter actually squealed with excitement. They had three rounds of Post/Pre-Scene Celebration Sex before going on patrol, where they once again raised eyebrows with their planning conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has two consensual non-consent scenes. As in rape fantasy. As in pretend-rape. 
> 
> There is also shmoopy lovey goodness, cuz it's my boys, but please don't read this if it's not a good idea for you.

The next morning, Wade managed to wake up first. He normally didn’t shower unless it was with Peter, but he made an exception this morning because he wanted to use some of his more flowery bath products. He emerged from the bathroom smelling like lavender and shea butter, and he thought he’d go grab them a breakfast treat from the bodega around the corner. When he opened their door to leave, however, there was a package waiting outside.

“The gun!” Peter cried from behind him, making Wade jump and nearly drop the expensive toy.

He was right – the safety gun had somehow arrived early, probably compelled by the sheer psychic power of Peter’s yearning. Wade checked it over to satisfy himself that yes, it was heavy and shaped like a very realistic gun but was completely solid, no moving parts whatsoever. They went through each of their limits with this new toy, with Peter asking very careful questions and paying close attention to Wade’s answers in a way that made his insides all fluttery.   

“See you this afternoon, Beautiful,” Peter said, kissing Wade goodbye. He looked so cute with his little professor outfit on and his little professor bag that Wade almost didn’t let him leave, but he had to – all part of the plan.

A few hours later, Wade was nearly done vacuuming their rugs. Housework really was more fun when he was wearing his pearls and his green fuck-me-pumps and matching a-line dress. Or maybe it was only more fun when he was expecting Peter to come home and find him like this.

He sighed, dreamily, thinking of Peter’s eyes and hair, when the vacuum abruptly stopped.

Strange. Wade turned to see if he’d accidentally pulled the plug out of the wall, and his breath caught in his chest. There was a figure, a man, dressed all in black, face covered, standing by the far wall with the vacuum cord in one hand. In his other hand was a gun.

Wade didn’t need to be told not to scream.

“Couch,” he said, gesturing casually with the gun. Wade willed his legs to work, not taking his eyes off of his attacker as he moved to sit on the couch.

“No,” the man said. His voice wasn’t deep, but there was an edge to it that made Wade shiver. He hesitated, not quite knowing what the attacker wanted. He gestured with the gun at the back of the couch.

Wade’s insides filled with cold dread. He’d been staving off panic, hoping that this was just a burglary, that the intruder would have him sit on the couch until he left with what he wanted. Now there was no mistaking his intentions. But Wade looked at the gun and moved obediently around the back of the couch, facing his attacker.

“Bend over the back,” he instructed. “Hands on the cushions.”

Wade swallowed a whimper. Maybe if he did what he was told this would still be okay. His whole body felt like ice as he turned and bent over the back of the couch, placing his hands flat on the cushions. He heard the man come towards him then, and in his peripheral vision he could see that he still held the vacuum’s cord. Wade couldn’t see the gun, but he knew it was there.

The man came to stand directly behind him. Wade could feel the heat of his body almost right up against his ass. It was becoming harder and harder to convince himself that the inevitable wasn’t about to happen.

“Give me your right arm.”

Wade complied, reaching his right arm back, gasping when the attacker pressed it against his back.

“Now your left.”

He felt the smooth vacuum cord wrap around both of his wrists. He couldn’t help the little sob that escaped him when it was pulled tight, leaving him dangling unsupported over the back of his own couch.

“Shh, you’re okay,” the attacker said. Wade thought he could hear a cruel smirk in the man’s voice, but maybe it was just his imagination. He was not imagining the hard cock that he felt pressing against his thigh through the material of his dress.

Then he felt the material move and shift. He realized the man was slowly lifting up his skirt, and he panicked, twisting and jerking against the couch. The man pulled back on his bound wrists, and Wade went still. He felt cool air on his skin as his skirt was lifted up over his hips.

He heard his attacker draw in a breath, and Wade’s skin went hot. “Goddamn, Beautiful,” he attacker said, and Wade felt a hand ghost over his bare ass, “does your husband know you like to vacuum without any underwear?”

Wade pressed his face into the soft couch cushion. He did not want this monster to see him cry, but in a moment he wouldn’t be able to help it. His head jerked up as he felt a thumb nudge against his asshole.

“Or is this for him?” the attacker asked, pressing against the small pucker until Wade felt him push through, touching him inside. “Is that why you’re all slick for me? Were you waiting for him to get home? Is that why you smell so good, Beautiful?”

Wade took a shuddering breath as the man leaned over his back, thumb fucking in and out of him.

“I hope he finds us,” the man said in a harsh whisper. “I hope he comes through that door and sees what I’m doing to you.”

The man’s thumb was replaced abruptly by two fingers digging inside him. Wade cried out when they found his prostate, and he heard the attacker laugh. The fingers withdrew, and Wade couldn’t help the relief that washed over him, even though he knew what was next.

He heard rustling, felt his attacker moving behind him, then the blunt head of the man’s cock pressing between his ass cheeks. Wade instinctively struggled again, pulling at the cord that bound his wrists, but he was trapped, pinned. The cock slid into him, forcing him open, until he felt the man’s hips flush against him.

Wade panted, closing his eyes, waiting. Suddenly there was a cold, hard something touching his lips. He flinched, opening his eyes to see the gun.

“In your mouth,” the man said, voice a little strained now.

Wade felt like he was watching from outside of his body as he parted his lips, taking the cold metal into his mouth. It was heavy. The man started to move in him, thrusting hard, but Wade didn’t struggle anymore, just focused on breathing around the gun.

The wood frame of the couch dug cruelly into his hips as the attacker picked up his pace. Wade tried to pull his lips over his teeth so that the gun wouldn’t knock painfully against them, but he was too terrified to move much. Then, the man jerked Wade’s hips back with one hand, pulling him away from the couch enough that he could reach the front of him, under his skirt. Wade was horrified to realize that he was hard, his vision blanking as the man pumped his cock in time with his thrusts, the gun still cold against his tongue. He shouted around the metal as he came.

When Wade’s brain started swimming back to him, he felt Peter kissing his wrists, massaging his arms. He hummed, happily, then squeaked a bit when he felt Peter’s tongue licking insistently at his fucked-out asshole. His Spidey just could not resist eating him out when he was in this dress, and Wade was not complaining.

*~*~*

“Sweet Cheeks, you really should, like, audition for Juilliard or something.”

Peter laughed, nuzzling their noses together. “You should, you mean – you were, like, genuinely terrified. I almost tapped out once or twice.”

Wade sat up, leaning protectively over his tiny love, all pretty and sprawled out on their bed. Peter smiled at him, blissfully.

“But it was fun?” Wade asked.

“Yes,” Peter said, pulling him down for a kiss. “And you had fun? Arms and wrists okay?”

“Oh my, yes,” Wade assured as his beloved squeezed his shoulders and elbow joints for the umpteenth time, his tiny strong hands giving Wade the yummy squiggles. “But just because we had fun, that doesn’t mean we’re not going to maybe have some fallout, okay? Tomorrow we’re just going to cook and take bubble-baths and snuggle and talk about our feelings a lot.”

Peter rolled his eyes, affectionately. “I think you just want an excuse to take bubble-baths, but yes, that’s the plan.”

Wade sighed to himself as Peter started kissing down his body, initiating Post-Scene-Sex Round 3. Maybe they would just have a lovely day at home and no one would experience any kind of drop, but he was happy they’d at least taken the precaution.

*~*~*

It took until 9am for Peter to finally admit that he was feeling unshakably morose and had been secretly crying intermittently all morning. He was, predictably, outraged at himself.

“I was fine!” he sobbed as Wade pulled him into his lap. “How is this happening? I feel like I’m—“

“Going crazy, I know,” Wade reassured, kissing the top of his head. “It’s perfectly normal, Sugar Bear.”

“I do not like it,” Peter huffed, wetly. “When will it be over?”

“Soon, honey,” Wade soothed, heart breaking a little for his poor bewildered Spidey. “It’s just your hormones being all jingly-jangly, like I said.”

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, suddenly cupping his face, protectively. “I can’t believe I said those things to you, I love you so much—“

“Oh, I loved those things you said to me,” Wade purred, “and those things you did to me. Yum, yum, yum.”

The faintest of smiles appeared on Peter’s face, and Wade’s heart flooded with happy fluffs. He elected to save his “Maybe listen next time I say we should wait a while before doing two really intense new scenes in a row because maybe I know what I’m talking about” speech until after his Spidey was not in the throes of both Top- and Sub-drop. Instead, he did his best to treat both conditions.

He let Peter give him a proper massage with the new cinnamon-flavored lotion he’d found at the fancy bath store, then returned the gesture himself. Nothing really helped drop except time, but taking care of each other seemed to at least let Peter feel his feelings since he wept quietly through both massages. It would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so goddamn sad.

The weather was still unseasonably chilly, so Wade made his Spidey both lasagna and gnocchi, which they ate in the bubble-filled bathtub. By the late afternoon, they were snuggled on the couch reminiscing about their double scenes, going over highlights and giggling over their reactions to each other’s acting.

“I like playing pretend with you.”

Wade looked down at his beloved to see a small, lascivious smile on his pretty lips. Peter was wrapped up in his multiple layers again, and Wade felt a strong desire to cut him out of them. He cupped his ass, making Peter let out a happy little growl. “Let’s do it again soon.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU to ImSoVain for this delightful request, and to everyone who's asked for sub and top drop (there will be more!) and to everyone who expressed excitement for con-non-con!!!
> 
> Next up: wedding fun, photo kink, spanking and birching OH MY, double-date madness, and so much moar!
> 
> And I'm also slowly but surely finishing my long form no-powers au, In the Good Old Summertime -- check it out!
> 
> Ideas? Requests? Want to chat? Tumble me: crockzilla.tumblr.com
> 
> (If you'd like a mini-fill on the tumblr, pop it in my Ask box!)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Overheard (at) the Scene](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15815067) by [westiec](https://archiveofourown.org/users/westiec/pseuds/westiec)




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